Sam sat in the library of the bunker, drumming his fingers on the table. It had been a few days since he had brought Dean home after confronting Metatron. He had tried to reach Crowley, but no answer. A few hours later, Dean was walking around. Sam asked dozens of questions, but Dean had told him nothing. Absolutely nothing. Dean claimed that he remembered Metatron stabbing him and then Sam talking and then he woke up in his bed. It was too perfect of a story for Sam, though. Dean just waking up from the dead? And he didn't know how? Nope. Cas didn't even know what happened, but he was still fixing up heaven, so he couldn't be of much help.
"Sammy!" Dean called from another room as Sam flinched. Dean walked in from the kitchen, holding an empty box. "Where's all the food?"
"You ate it all, Dean. We have to go get more," Sam whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean frowned at looked at the box. "Look, we'll just head over to the grocery store and get something."
"I figured that we'd do that. What's up with you lately, anyway? You've been all moody. Well, moodier than usual," Dean accused as Sam shrugged.
"I'm fine. Just a bit stressed," Sam answered, rubbing his brow. Dean looked at him warily, unsure. He looked away, deciding not to argue. They had both been through a lot and he didn't want to start a fight. "Have you heard from Cas lately?"
"I think he still has his hands full with fixing heaven right now. He'll come when he has a chance," Sam sighed before Dean shut the fridge.
"How hard could fixing heaven be, anyway?" Dean grumbled, still looking for some sort of food. Sam gave Dean an appalled look. "What?"
"Are you- Heaven has been broken since we've known it even existed," Sam pointed out, shocked at Dean.
"Yeah, but this is the first time they can actually get anything done. There's no more factions, no more Lucifer, Crowley is dealing with Hell. There are no distractions. I'm surprised that they didn't just decide to make Cas their king or whatever and get on with it," Dean argued, slamming the cupboard door. Sam jumped at the noise and looked at Dean.
"Look, Cas is dealing with it and everything will turn out alright. Besides, if you want to see how Cas is doing, why don't you just pray to him?" Sam complained as Dean froze for a split second. "What?"
"N-Nothing. Just thought I saw actual food," Dean shouted, covering himself. Sam sat up and groaned.
"Fine, we'll go grocery shopping," Sam moaned, grabbing his coat by the door. Dean turned to him.
"I got a call earlier about a job and I told them I'd figure out what it was. You go into town, I'll stay and look up what's going on," Dean answered, making Sam grow weary. Dean liked the bunker, but he also liked driving the Impala.
"It will only take a moment," Sam urged as Dean shook his head.
"As long as you actual food and not that rabbit stuff, it'll be fine," Dean answered before retreating hastily to his room. Sam stared at him, getting suspicious. He thought of every reason of why Dean wouldn't want to leave and Sam got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He ran to the door and lifted the carpet. After he had tried to contact Crowley and before the Dean started walking around again, Sam felt the need to demon proof the bunker again. He had painted devil traps under carpets at the entrance and a salt line underneath the door. The carpet was intact and the trap was untouched. Sam pulled at his face, unsure what to do. He jumped as the phone rang. He ran down the stairs and picked it up, but Dean had already answered it.
"Is this Dean Winchester?" a familiar voice asked. There was worry and fright in the tone.
"Yes. Who is this?" Dean asked, surprised that someone got a hold of the bunker number. Sam grabbed a notepad and a pen to write down what was going on. Dean didn't know anyone that he didn't. Not anymore.
"It's Ben. Ben Braeden. Lisa's kid," he answered before Dean remained silent. Sam froze, remembering that name very well. "You do know me, right?"
"Of course I do," Dean whispered, his voice very soft. Ben let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh thank god! Mom doesn't remember you, and I didn't for a while, but for some reason I do. I remember everything," Ben answered as Sam wrote everything down. "Dean, you have to come back."
"Are you all right? Is your mother ok?" Dean asked, sounding worried.
"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She just thinks I'm crazy because I think you exist...but..." Ben trailed off as Sam started writing things down.
"But what, Ben? What's going on?" Dean asked urgently.
"Things have been happening. Strange things. It happened when the stars fell last year. Our neighbors have disappeared left and right, there's hardly anyone at school anymore," Ben explained, making Dean worried. "I remember you telling me to keep Mom safe, but I don't know what to do."
"When did you start remembering?"
"Around the time the stars all fell. I told Mom that you would've loved it, but then she asked who I was talking about. Then I started having two different memories of the same thing. Like having a picnic and you were and weren't there. I remember you and those monster children, and then I don't. That's when I realized that I was either going crazy or something supernatural happened. You still fight things like that, right?" Ben asked, desperation in his voice.
"Yeah, I still Hunt," Dean whispered, the frustration in his voice.
"Then something must have done something to me, right?" Ben asked, almost sounding hysterical.
"Yeah, something must have done something to you," Dean whispered before clearing his throat. "Do you still live where you used to? In Michigan?"
"Yeah, we didn't move from Battle Creek," Ben answers before Dean nodded. "And Dean? I wanted to apologize."
"What? Why?"
"I said so many terrible things," Ben whispered as Dean shook his head and laughed a little.
"I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have left, or smacked you, or any of that," Dean whispered. "I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"
"Okay. See you soon," Ben whispered, greatly relieved. The line went dead and Sam went into shock. Not a second later, Sam went into the hallway outside Dean's room and painted the circle on the ceiling, just to make sure Dean wasn't what Sam thought he was. Just as Sam put the spray can in his pocket, Dean opened the door.
"Hey, Sam. Whatchu doin'?" Dean asked, looking very confused with a backpack over his shoulder and an assault rifle in his hand. Sam stuttered for a moment, unsure how to explain himself.
"Who was on the phone?" Sam asked as Dean shrugged.
"No one. Just the people from the job I talked about earlier," Dean informed, still a bit weirded out by his brother. Sam said nothing, surprised by his brother.
"Oh," he answered as Dean scrunched his face in bewilderment.
"Why are you acting strange?" Dean asked as he pushed past his brother. Sam watched carefully, quickly glancing up at the ceiling. Suddenly, Dean stopped, giving Sam a heart attack. Dean looked around, confused. "The hell?"
"Dean? Why didn't you tell me?" Sam nearly shouted as tears nearly fell. Dean turned around, shocked and angry.
"Tell you what?"
"Did you think I wasn't going to find out?! This is a big deal, Dean! This is a huge deal!" Sam shouted, unable to look at Dean, who was very confused.
"What is?!" Dean shouted before Sam pointed to the ceiling.
"That's the big deal, Dean!" Sam screamed, appalled and upset. Dean sighed and looked at the floor.
"Crowley told me it would be a bad idea hiding this from you," Dean whispered, looking at Sam again, but with the blackest eyes Sam had ever seen. "Look, Sam, I didn't want this to be an issue-"
"An issue?! Oh, this way bigger than an issue! Dean, you have become what we've devoted our life to killing! You've become the thing that has killed nearly everyone we've ever known!" Sam shouted as Dean slumped, frustrated.
"I didn't ask for this!"
"You didn't? What about that mark, Dean? I'm pretty sure you asked for that, Dean!" Sam yelled before covering his mouth in shock and upset. Dean just looked at him.
"I obviously can't change what I am, Sam. I died, and there isn't anything either of us can do about it!" Dean answered, pointing it out. Sam nodded, knowing that well. "Now will you let me out of this? I have somewhere to go."
"I can't let you go, Dean. I don't even know if it is you and not a demon pretending to be you," Sam answered as Dean slumped.
"Your name is Samuel Winchester, named after Samuel Campbell, who is our mother's father. Your birthday is May 2nd 1983 and our mother killed by Azazel on November 2nd 1983. You have demon blood pumping through your veins, you went to hell, came back soulless, you were possessed by an angel. We got those tattoos that keep the demons out, which is keeping me in this body," Dean explained before Sam shook his head.
"Fine, you're Dean. That doesn't mean that I trust you!" Sam exclaimed, frustrating Dean. "And what is Cas going to say!? He's going to be upset."
"Why would you care?" Dean scoffed, folding his arms. Sam sighed and shook his head.
"I don't want haven to declare war on your ass! Cas isn't going to be happy about this. Is that why you flinched earlier?!" Sam demanded as Dean shrugged.
"I don't know how well prayin' works when you're damned," Dean replied irritatedly.
"Whatever. I'll go figure out what's going on in Battle Creek and I'll figure out what to do with you when I get back," Sam informed, moving around the circle. Dean groaned and through the backpack at Sam.
"That is my family, Sam! One that you took away from me!"
"Oh, no, you pushed them away. You wanted Cas to erase their memories. I wanted you to work through it and you got mad at me for even bringing it up."
"Who decided to show up one day? Without telling me, I might add?"
"If I had told you sooner, you wouldn't even have known them. You would have just jumped back on the wagon and went hunting."
"You were soulless!" Dean shouted before Sam sighed.
"I'm going. I'll be back in a few days," Sam whispered, stopping the fight. Dean threw his head back, unsure what to do. Sam refused to look back as he picked up Dean's bag and headed outside. Dean grabbed his head, thinking that this couldn't have come at a worse time. He paced the trap, understanding now how all those monsters felt when he trapped them. Those monsters. He scoffed. He was one of those monsters now.